


Flower Crowns (Countryhumans)

by Soviet_uwu



Category: CountryHumans
Genre: BIG OOF, Character personalities are not accurate oof nothing is accurate, F/M, First time doing this, I need help, I'm not actually cursing (yet), M/M, Other, Poland's a sweet angel that deserves nothing wrong, Probably just fluff, Tags/characters added as I go, There is definitely blood and stuff, Third Reich's a trickster, This actually is a story not a oneshot wow, This story is updated, USSR and Third Reich are seperate people from their "sons", Ultra gay, Very few countryhumans are girls to my eyes oof
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2020-03-13 10:00:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 10,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18938653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soviet_uwu/pseuds/Soviet_uwu
Summary: After tense relationships after WW2, most countries have redeemed themselves. However, some countries just don't enjoy each other.So, when some countries fall into an almost cheesy, romantic relationship with each other, how would the others react?Lastly, when they discover a beautiful meadow hidden away from drama, would it too become a source of arguments, or would it be a secret hide out for them to confess their feelings?





	1. A Rough Start

Russia patiently waited outside America's house, a small grin on the commie's face. He was excited to see the small bundle of capitalism, hoping that he could try to confess a bit of feelings that he was harboring for quite a while. He also felt tremendously horrible after a few days ago- his sisters, Ukraine and Belarus, found him and America very cute together- and decided to try and throw a party for the two hopeless love birds to confess or something, before making out or whatever the two Slavs had in mind.   
The only thing it did was intimidate America to the point of hiding inside his house, also known as Britain and France's house. Now, Russia's dad, the USSR, and Britain were not on the best terms after the Cold War, when America started challenging USSR with pretty much everything. It was a terrible thing, and it was hard to try and stop the anger they had for each other. However, the Cold War slowly melted away (haaaah get it owo"), things slowly recovered between the two families.   
Russia didn't realize that he was slowly panicking until he felt the anxiety crash over him. The tall country forced himself to breathe slowly, trying to calm himself down, before rapping his knuckles on the door again.   
Someone did answer the door, and to his surprise and joy, it was America.   
However, the smaller country did not look well.  
America was wearing a long sleeved shirt very haphazardly along with some more random clothing, constantly avoiding eye contact with Russia. He kept clutching his arms, wincing as if they hurt. "Hi, Russia," he rasped quietly with a weak voice.  
Now or never.  
Russia wailed, "America! I'm so sorry!" The tall country opened his arms, wrapping his arms around the smaller country as he tried to comfort him, blabbering unintelligible nonsense as if he were drunk again. "Ukraine and Belarus didn't mean to scare you, I'm sorry Dad was mean to your family, please don't be mad at my family be mad at me instead-"  
A small hushing noise filled the air. As Russia looked down, he saw America smiling happily, a little bit more than amused at the Slav's blabbering. "Don't worry," he whispered, returning the hug.  
"You're still my best friend."


	2. Some Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Russia feels like he's friendzoned, and America doesn't realize. But suddenly, he does realize.

Russia felt his heart plummet, feeling like it tore holes through his stomach and other organs in the process. "F-friends?" He echoed slowly, the words almost smothered by the emphasis of his accent.  
"Yeah, friends," America chirruped, nuzzling his head into Russia's chest. "We're best friends, because we survived the tension between your dad and my dad."  
The smile on Russia's face was forced. He felt his world crumbling.  
He always had a well defended secret, and it was that he always had a crush on America. Whether it was sometimes doodling the other man's face on paper (which turned out decent), or obviously daydreaming, it was easy to tell when Russia was thinking about him.  
And likely, those obvious signs got Belarus and Ukraine to pull what they had done.  
"Are you sure? Like, we aren't more-"  
America looked at Russia, an odd expression on his face. The capitalist had so quickly untangled his arms from Russia's, that the taller country had almost ignored it. He wish he had, but he didn't.  
"What do you mean, more?" America said slowly, lifting his sunglasses. He obviously seemed either concerned or uoset, tearing at Russia's heart even more.  
After a long period of silence, Russia mumbled, "N-nothing. I need to go."  
And then the taller country ran, turned around and bolted.  
He didn't even hear America yell "Wait", or hear him mumble "I want us to be more than just best friends".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good job, America.  
> -Soviet_uwu  
> P.S. I will end most of my notes with "-Soviet_uwu". Deal with it >:)


	3. Unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Russia finds Germany and Third Reich, who don't exactly give him a reaction he was expecting. Will Third Reich be kinder, or will he harbor spite from World War 2?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I don't write very long QwQ I try to but I m i g h t be working on quantity over quality since I want to post as much chapters as possible, since I am excited to writing this story, so apologies yet again!

The world around Russia was a blur. His long legs easily gave him an advantage of running fast as he bolted away, trying to figure out what America meant when he agreed they were friends.  
As he skidded to a stop to catch his breath, he crumbled to the ground and pulled his legs in near a tree, deciding to cry helpless tears into his pants. He just wanted America to love him back, since Russia felt like he could protect the fragile country from anything that wanted to hurt him.  
As he continued quietly sobbing to himself, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Before he could shriek or punch, he heard a quiet German voice say, "Russland, are you alright?"  
"No," he mumbled, pulling his ushanka down on his face to cover his eyes. He just wanted to get this day over with, to pray that America could change his feelings towards him.  
"Hey, get up," rasped an angry voice, along with the feeling of a long-fingered hand grabbing a fistful of his chirt collar and lifting the tall country up to his knees. When he looked up, he saw Third Reich.  
The Third Reich that had hurt his dad so badly.  
The Third Reich that threw the world into a second world war.  
The Third Reich that Russia had been taught never to trust.  
However, Germany's dad had seemed a bit nicer. His mouth was curled up in... A rather malevolent smile, jagged teeth easily shown from how wide his grin was. The design of a flag didn't fade from his face one bit, though he didn't look dressed like he was ready for battle. A long-sleeved business shirt was thrown on along with some jeans, along with a blank armband on his right arm. However, he still bore black gloves and his signature officer hat, as if he wanted to still strike fear into someone who knows his crimes.  
"Are you still redeemed...?" Russia choked out, trying to grasp Third Reich's wrists and force him to let him go or something.  
The creepy smile dropped. "What do you mean, 'I'm redeemed'?" He spat, his face suddenly emotionless.  
"Okay, okay," Germany quietly mumbled, now speaking after that moment. "Dad, let's go," he mumbled in a harsh voice. "Let Russland be."  
As the father and son bristly walked off, Russia swore he could see Third Reich turn around and glare at him with hate-filled eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The only reason why Third Reich has an armband, according to me, is because he still wants to feel like he's wearing his original uniform, but DOESN'T want to get shot down by the USSR or something. Doesn't really make sense now that I think about it, but I like that detail.  
> -Soviet_uwu


	4. Let's Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Russia tries again with America. It went a little bit better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, this is America's side of the story this chapter :')

America sat on his bed, a bundle of blankets as he quietly whimpered to himself. He clutched his phone to his chest, hoping that Russia would just call back.  
It was almost a week after the incident. Russia refused to aknowledge him, though he did seem terribly sad. Every time America tried to say something, anything to Russia, he would only mumble something in his native language and walk away. That left the small country anxious and upset, wondering what he did.  
Was it something he said?  
Was it something he did?  
Yet again, America dialed Russia's phone number again, put his phone to his (nonexistent) ear again. His ringtone filled the room, making the capitalist's heart crack in newfound grief.  
Slowly, he moved his thumb, stopped the call.  
Then, heavy knocking filled his room. America let out a loud shriek, until a voice came from the door.  
"America!" A heavily accented voice yelled. "Get your butt out of there!"  
However, the country didn't reply at first. Ripping off his bandages one by one from his arms, he wrapped it around with thick, white gauze. Firmly securing the gauze around both arms, America put on fingerless gloves, just to make himself feel a little bit... Less upset.  
As he staggered to the door, he swung it open, revealing his dad, Great Britain. France was next to her husband, arms crossed with an unreadable look on her face. "You haven't left your room since..." France hissed, counting on her fingers. "Five days. Are you starving yourself in there?"  
"No!" America yelped, gesturing to his mini fridge and some take out containers he didn't bother to throw away. "Japan's been sneaking in my window, she gets me food and keeps me company."  
"So you're not dating Russia?" Great Britain inquired suspiciously, his eyes narrowed. The monocle on his face made it a tad bit more intimidating to America.  
Quietly, America mumbled, "W-We're just best friends."  
A gasp filled the living room.  
His voice dripping with anger, America's father spat, "Russia's in the living room. Go downstairs."  
As Great Britain and France walked off their room, America bolted down the stairs, his heart breaking as he saw Russia stare back at him in horror and disbelief.  
"I'm sorry!" America cried. He reached forward, trying to desperately calm down the taller country.  
Suddenly, the edges of Russia's mouth twitched down in a frown. "Are you sure?" He grunted, his face suddenly becoming an icy mask.  
America took Russia's frigid hands into his own, staring into Russia's blank eyes. "Yes," he sobbed, trying to hide whatever small tears that were trying to come from his eyes with his sunglasses. "I am sure. I was so ignorant, I'm sorry I didn't realize you liked me more than just a best friend."  
The commie's expression softened as gently, he started smiling again. "I just thought that you wouldn't ever like me because of what Ukraine and Belarus did."  
Suddenly, Russia felt his cheeks being seized by America's warmed hands as the shorter country smashed his own lips into Russia's. Both of the men stood still as a statue, both suddenly conflicted by what they were feeling. However, Russia returned the affection back, gently resting his hands on America's shoulders as they reluctantly parted.  
"That... Was... Amazing," America gasped, wiping his mouth from a bit of drool as Russia did the same. Suddenly, his expression plummeted. "Russia, I'm sorry-"  
Russia let out a quiet "shhh" sound. "Don't be sorry," he replied soothingly. As he tugged America into a hug, he mumbled, "So.... You want to date?"  
"Yes!" America basically yelled, smothering his grin into the space between Russia's neck and shoulder as they both sat together, hugging as if their lives depended on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I very much ship Russia and America, sorry. If you ship Russia with Germany, or America with Japan, sorry! Germany will have a crush, too, and Japan will happily sleep with her body pillows.  
> -Soviet_uwu


	5. A Bad Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Third Reich suggests a plan that USSR is not happy with. They get into a fight, and Great Britain has to break up said fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Third Reich is sometimes referred to as "Nazi", and "USSR" is sometimes referred to as "Soviet" or "Soviet Russia".

USSR sat quietly at a table, glaring at Third Reich. Apparently, Great Britain had invited the two over for tea, though both the German and the Soviet brought their own alcohol- USSR having a giant bottle of vodka to himself, Third Reich with a Thermos of beer from god knows where. A nervous smile on Great Britain's face, the rather short country (compared to Third Reich and USSR) muttered, "You guys could speak."  
"Don't tell me when I can and cannot speak," Third Reich exploded, slamming both of his gloved hands on the table as he stared eerily at Great Britain. In return, the man let out a strangled yelp, falling back with his tea. Taking audible breaths, Third Reich sat back down, staring at the communist beside him. "Okay," he calmly started. "I was proposing that we try to arrange a marriage between Russia and Germany. Both of our sons are very close to each other, and would forge a peace treaty between our families after years of fighting." He cleared his throat, looking to the side. Likely, he was thinking about his father, the German Empire. Known as the Second Reich. Known as Reichtangle.  
Soviet Russia frowned. He knew his father, the Russian Empire, was on bad terms with the Second Reich, and would only make the situation worse if Russia and Germany had a fight. "Russia is dating America," he grunted slowly, his teeth clenched. He never trusted that capitalist one bit, but he wanted his son to be happy. "They're perfect for each other. It would break America's heart if Russia cheated on him with Germany. Besides-"  
Now the Nazi was yelling once more. "HOW could you be so selfish?!" He snatched a knife from somewhere in his officer uniform, flinging it across the room and slung it at a map behind USSR, hitting straight in the middle of modern day Russia's land on the map. While it was midair, however, the blade skimmed against the Soviet's cheek, drawing blood. "I can't be the bad person again," the German yelled, his voice cracking with emotion. "I got a second chance to redeem myself. After you shot me in the head. This planet we inhabit can't handle another World War, even if it's been over 60 years since World War 2. And your kids! Do you want to break your wife's heart all over again by flinging your own body, already knowing you're burdened from your age, into a battlefield? Your kids won't know if you'll come back in one piece!"  
The scene was all too clear in USSR's head- the gunshot filling the air, how Third Reich had fallen to the ground, a peaceful expression on his face.  
How the blood pooled up beneath him, turning his black officer outfit a dark red.  
Then, his head moved on to a different scene- of hot tears spilling from his wife's eyes, of him getting shot down, with someone having to explain to his kids that he couldn't come home.  
USSR let out a frustrated groan, roughly wiping the blood away from his cheek. "Your words can't hurt me," the Soviet hissed. "I know my place in the battlefield. I know everything I need to know." Then, without warning, USSR sat up, bolting to the other side and slamming Third Reich down on the ground.  
For such an angry Nazi back then, he did not have as much of strength now, struggling and flailing as he tried to wrestle his way out of Soviet Russia pinning him to the ground by the throat. Or, it could've been when Third Reich hit the ground and now has a gash on the back of his head, crimson slowly pooling from beneath him.  
The adrenaline that had possessed the USSR suddenly disappeared. He sat up with a look of horror as the Third Reich was beneath him.  
It was so easy to kill him.  
But USSR didn't have the heart to repeat it a second time.  
Suddenly, hands seized USSR's shoulders as he slowly got dragged away from Third Reich. It was a suprise, considering Great Britain's build.  
"I've already dialed 999," the small-ish country grunted. "Think of an excuse fast, USSR. I may be your ally in World War 2, but I'm not the one getting arrested from this or something."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear lord USSR  
> -Soviet_uwu


	6. Investigation Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> USSR and Great Britain are somewhere with Third Reich and his cronies. Russia, America, Germany, and Poland go look for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story is split up into two sections, one on what is happening with USSR and Great Britain, the other with Russia and the others.

USSR was thrown to the ground with a sickly "thump". The country let out a low growl, struggling to get up. Those weren't normal cops- he knew Britain. Cops this bad couldn't belong to him. However, the cops were silent- it was if they had a mask on. No words came from their mouth- they were horribly, horribly silent as they subdued the tall country. However, USSR felt too weak- lately, he had been feeling more lethargic, and with about three cops piled up on him (also not having any sort of weapon), the communist stopped struggling as cold handcuffs seized his wrists. "I'm innocent," he rasped slowly. He felt force, likely a cop's heavy boot, stomp onto his back as he let out a strangled noise of pain. "I didn't do anything," he mumbled. However, it didn't help. Quietly, USSR had been seized and held up in an uncomfortable angle, forced to watch Great Britain, his own ally, vanish under a pile of strange cops as he let out a loud yell. Much quicker, he had handcuffs on his wrists. The monocle on Great Britain's eye had cracked, much to his despair.  
"Oh, Soviet," Third Reich sighed from above him. The German stepped in front of him, a mocking smile on his face. "Did you really think the police would think you and old Teabag over there think you're innocent?" He gestured to Great Britain, who struggled to even twitch.  
As Great Britain locked eyes with USSR, he yelped, "These aren't my cops!"  
The Nazi snapped his fingers, stepping back into the shadows. As the cops lifted their face, revealing the flag of UK on all of their faced, they pulled off the rubber mask they were wearing to reveal blank expressions and flags- the SS flag on one, the Iron Cross on another, and lastly, the German Empire. Third Reich's uncle. With a toothy grin as malevolent as his nephew's, the Second Reich slid off his officer hat, putting on his signature helmet.  
USSR's expression melted into horror. "Why?" He suddenly yelled. "Why me?! I forgave you, Third Reich! Why do you want revenge?!"  
Emotion flickered on Third Reich's face, before hardening into a look of anger. "Revenge is not what I want." He mumbled quietly. "I want every country in my grasp, to bow down to me and do whatever I want. It always has been what I wanted to do." He walked up to the Soviet, now out of the shadows. Now that he was closer, USSR could see the incessant trickle of blood dripping down the side of his face, soaking into the white of his Nazi uniform. His grin suddenly curled into a snarl as he moved his leg back. Then, he kicked USSR, with both of the cops holding him up letting go. The affect was the Soviet falling over pitifully, letting out a low groan from pain. Slowly, as agony hazed up his vision, he closed his eyes and allowed darkness to swamp him.  
\-----  
"Russia?" Germany cried. His voice carried sadly through the air, though the tone of urgency was enough for the commie to look up.  
Russia was patiently waiting for America to finish- apparently, America has found a light blue flower that he eventually couldn't resist, and tried to carefully pluck it from the grass. Russia was a little more than bored, and was excited to something. "Yes, Germany?" He yelled out loud.  
Germany didn't reply. Instead, Russia heard rapid footsteps as the country sprinted over, almost running into Russia. "Where is my dad?"  
"Third Reich?" America inquired, offering Russia the flower he pulled out. Happily, the tall country took it, giving America a peck on the forehead before putting the flower into a spot in his ushanka.  
"Of course," Germany angrily spat, suddenly seeming as scary as his father. However, he let out a quiet breath, before looking composed again. "I haven't seen him since yesterday."  
"Neither have I!" Both Russia and America yelled at the same time. They stared at each other in shock, before Russia mumbled, "I mean, my dad. I last saw him walking out the door with a bottle of vodka, telling Belarus to watch over the house, and not to let Germany's family into the house."  
America hummed quietly to himself. "USSR always hated Third Reich, though," he muttered. He blinked at Germany with a furrowed expression. "Belarus isn't head of the house though, right?"  
"I am!" Russia yelled, a sudden look of horror appearing on his face. "He always tells me. Maybe he's in danger!"  
Germany added on just as Russia stopped talking. "He must've suspected something. That he wouldn't come back, that Russia may follow after him and get killed or lost. He wants Belarus, the second oldest child, to watch over Ukraine." His expression darkened. "But if my dad is gone, then..."  
"Then Third Reich must've done something to USSR!" America yelled. "Those two must've gotten in a fight. But why is my dad not here?"  
As the three of them stayed quiet, thinking of their own theories to where Great Britain must've gone, the sound of wingbeats filled the air. With a loud yell, an angel suddenly plummeted to the ground, his wings flattened to the Earth on his sides. As said person sat up, it was revealed to be Poland. "'Go fly to Germany,' Hungary said. 'He will catch you,' he said," the small angel muttered. Standing up on his feet now, he walked into Germany's arms, wrapping his own around Germany's body. Obviously, he didn't realize/mind that the taller country had started blushing like crazy, turning a shade of red that would've embarrassed the USSR.  
"Dad was always USSR's ally," America said slowly. "When he left, he said that there was a note on the table. Mom went after him, and I haven't seen them since."  
As Poland caught up with the situation thanks to Germany, he yelped, "Let's go analyze the note!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can we get an F in the chat for USSR and UK bc let's be honest, I'm making Third Reich a bad person in the story on purpose  
> Also yo you could post comments y'know? And I'll reply, since I frequent this story often to post chapters! I don't bite  
> -Soviet_uwu


	7. Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> USSR and Great Britain escape from Third Reich. They meet up with Russia and his group, but Third Reich pulls something they wouldn't have predicted.

Breaths came out of USSR in ragged gasps as he forced himself to look up. Great Britain was gone, along with those police. Sitting by his feet, however, an amused grin on his face, was Third Reich.  
"Just exactly why do you want to be here?" The Soviet choked, his voice cracked. He didn't remember when he last ate or drank, he just remembered cold floors, a burst of pain, Third Reich's cold gaze, and darkness. However, when he moved his hands to try and wipe at the drying blood on him, he realized that his handcuffs were off.  
A quiet sigh came from the nearby Nazi, before he did truly reply. "Oh, my friend. How could you trust me..? First, sharing Poland. Then, Stalingrad." He ran his tongue over his (nonexistent) lips, as if he craved the chaos that had swarmed his land, his time, his life.  
A sound of a scream echoed through the room. USSR closed his eyes briefly, trying to think of who screamed. When he saw again, Third Reich was gone. With a flurry of action that he could barely percieve, however, Third Reich appeared again, holding Britain up. The Englishman thrashed around violently, before punching Third Reich in the jaw. The German fell back with an almost animalistic hiss, while Britain ran towards USSR. "Lad," he yelled. "Get up! You're not even bound to the chair- he must've thought you would be in that daze for awhile. Get back on both of your feet." His features were contorted in horror as he looked back. Seeing Third Reich quickly recovering and making his way towards the two men. With a quick heave, UK pulled USSR up.  
By now, the communist had gotten about half of his coordination and thought process back as he stood up as soon as Britain lifted him. "Thanks, comrade," he grunted. The doors were so close. He ran forward, eating up the distance on his long legs. He heard Great Britain gasping behind him, a sign that he's not in fact being dragged away and killed. Soon enough, USSR slammed his shoulder into the metal doors, swinging them wide open.  
As he caught his breath, he saw a group of guys standing at the door, seeming equally out of breath as they stared forward in shock.  
The head of them being Russia.  
\-----  
Relief washed over Russia so badly that his legs basically buckled under him. The tall country fell forward, though he scrabbled to stand up. He fell into his father's arms, sobs coming from him. As he felt warm, strong arms gently comfort him as he cried out all of the frustration in the world within him, he saw America repeat the same thing with his own father.  
However, Germany stood still as a statue, an angry glare towards the door. "Where is dad?" He yelled. However, his aggressive posture soon melted into an exhausted slouch as Poland walked up slowly, clearly uncomfortable around USSR.  
"Your dad," Britain mumbled. "He's-"  
USSR sluggishly held up an open hand, as if to tell his ally to stop talking. "Third Reich, your father," he said quietly to Germany. "He was the one who took us away. He was the one that hurt us." He gestured to the blood on his body and clothing, along with Great Britain's crimson-stained clothes. Russia felt his eyes well up with tears and his body run with rage- he knew the full extent of Third Reich's madness. Letting go from his father relucantly, he walked over to Germany, mumbling, "I'm sorry about your dad."  
Germany, instead of replying, put his face into his hands as he let out a sad groan. "My grandfather, Reichtangle, always warned me about Third Reich."  
Poland tensed up, an angry and upset expression suddenly on his face. "Reichtangle? Don't trust a word he says!"  
"Maybe I shouldn't trust myself, Poland. I'm sorry, but I believed them," Germany replied, hunching his shoulders in as Poland rested a soft hand on his shoulder. "I knew that my father was a bad person, but it's like no one in my family is a good person. Even my grandfather is as malicious and cunning as Third Reich, he just hides it better than Third Reich by surrounding himself with Ottoman and Austria-Hungary. His friends, who are just as bad, if not worse, than Reichtangle." He looked forward, back at USSR. "I'm sorry that Third Reich hurt you and Great Britain. I am no supporter of his deeds, but someone has to step up for what he's done."  
Sudden slamming of the metal doors filled the air, sending everyone into a defensive pose- all except USSR, who was back next to Russia (and was slouching rather dizzily against his son). As the doors swung open, Third Reich stepped out of the shadows and into the sun.  
Or more like staggered, slipping on his own blood as he tumbled to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tHaT HECCIN NAZI  
> Stop ruining this story and go back to the trash can you sleep in >:c


	8. Pretty Sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Germany accidentally finds a nice meadow, and decides to stay there. Poland finds him once more, and Germany tells him something that neither were expecting to hear. Reichtangle, Germany's grandfather, finds them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weird idea of mine, but just to clear it up- in my story, Second Reich/German Empire and Reichtangle are different people. Reichtangle is just the German Empire with a rectangular head (appearance wise), but for personality, German Empire is more manipulative and evil than Reichtangle. Poland is scared of both.
> 
> Also, GerPol is in this chapter. P l e a s e don't be mad at me for shipping these two-

Germany walked in circles, the edges of his mouth twitched in a frown. His mind was racing at an almost painful rate as he tried to process and mentally dismember everything that happened the day before- why was Third Reich chose to Great Britain down along with USSR, exactly what happened to Poland that made him terrified of his family, and most importantly, how did his father stagger out of the doors in such poor shape?  
He put a hand gently on his head, wincing. A sudden headache was very noticeable. He slowly made his way to a tree, leaning against it to try and give himself a break- and a moment to try and figure out things.  
He suddenly facepalmed as he mumbled to himself, "Great Britain has always been close to USSR. Even if they've had issues with each other, they rely on each other for support. If Father wanted at least a bit of amusement, he'd drag them along together. Torture them, and listen to their begs and pleas to be released. Back to-"  
Germany gasped. "He must've used us to torture them. Taunted USSR and Great Britain about not being able to see their kids." He rose up, shrieking, "I have to get back!" As he tried to step forward, however, he tripped on something. The country let out a yell, tumbling forward quite a bit.  
As he lifted up his face, about to say a string of colorful curse words, he suddenly absorbed the area around him, along with its beauty.  
A gentle breeze blew through the meadow, barely disturbing the multiple flowers that grew, intertwining with long blades of grass. Reds, yellows, purples, and blues polka-dotted the sea of green around Germany, and when he gently plucked a flower to study it, the petals were soft, though it was hard to tell past his rubber gloves. Bird songs filled the air, only enhancing the beauty around him.  
"Beautiful," he whispered quietly. What used to be anxiety-laced theories of the past was now peaceful, almost blank thoughts about random things gave him joy. Germany laid on his back, lazily staring at the clouds.  
He could notice that there were birds in the air, telling by the distant wingbeats.  
Suddenly, Germany sat up. Was he going crazy? This meadow was either relaxing him too much, or he just needed sleep. He glanced in the air, now alert and worried that...  
Poland suddenly crashlanded, sliding into Germany's arms with a yell before latching his hands somewhere else. "Dear God!" He yelped, almost asphyxiating the taller country underneath him with a really tight hug near the neck. "My wings are acting dumb! They won't work."  
Germany seized Poland's wrists, prying them from his neck as he let out an almost obnoxiously loud gasp. "P-Poland!" He hissed. "Watch your hands, I really don't want to die from your excitement." Despite this, the German was blushing just a bit. All of his life, his family had deprived him of affection, so this moment made him feel... Something.  
"What if I was taunting you?" Poland chirruped in reply, looking oddly mischievous. "You need to relax lately, Germany." His expression softened as he climbed off of his companion, looking at the flowers. "Anyways," he mumbled. "These flowers are really pretty."  
Germany gently plucked a few as long as possible, attempting to weave them together. A few minutes passed by, with Poland intently watching beside him. "Dang it," Germany hissed, dropping the flowers. The stems were bruised and shorter, since he had bended them enough to be pulled apart with ease. His shoulders slumped in as he mumbled, "I might seriously be stressed. It's just, Dad and everything-"  
The angel beside him let out a quiet "shhh" sound. Poland gently picked up the bruised flowers, whispering something unintelligible (or, after Germany realized, in Polish). He dropped the flowers, picking up his own batch. Quicker and with less mistakes, the small country wove himself together a thick flower crown, dotted with red and yellow flowers. With a sheepish grin, Poland offered the decoration to Germany, which he took with a small grin.  
"Well," Germany stuttered, glancing at Poland. "Thank you for the flower crown." Gently placing the item onto his head, Germany turned away, attempting to rub off the blush that had dusted his cheeks. He didn't want Poland to get hurt again by his family, and loving him would only be selfish. As he tried to swipe away tears that welled up-  
He felt a soft hand gently rest on his shoulder, a common sign of affection that always calmed down the anxious country. As he looked behind, he saw Poland smiling delicately. "Is there something you want me to know?" He whispered. "I don't mind. I've heard worse."  
"I..." Germany mumbled, suddenly at a loss of words. The dread came back, worse than ever, but he had to summon up whatever strength he had in his body. "I love you, Poland."  
A silence settled over the both of them. Poland seemed to turn a heavy shade of red, his eyes wide. However, the smaller country let out a loud squeal, barreling himself into Germany. Poland shoved his face into the white business shirt that the workaholic always wore, showering the person below him with affection that he had restrained for so long.  
"I love you, too."  
The sound of someone clearing his throat shook Germany and Poland out of the silent joy they had, and the both of them looked up to see Germany's grandfather. Reichtangle.  
Poland let out a choked sound of terror, immediately burying his face back into Germany's shirt and hiding his face. In return, the taller country wrapped his arms protectively around Poland, sending his grandfather an angry glare. "Let me guess. Third Reich wants me to see him."  
"Address your father correctly," Reichtangle barked. Taking a deep breath, the oddly-shaped country grunted, "Yes, yes he does. Also, Poland, I'm sorry for what I've done. You don't need to hide your face around me any longer- I'll keep my distance from you."  
When the country being addressed to didn't budge, Reichtangle sighed once more. "I had a boyfriend once," he mumbled. "He was great at-"  
Germany snapped his head up, now scowling. "Get lost!" He yelled at his family member. Reichtangle merely chuckled to himself, slinking away as quickly as he appeared.  
Poland lifted his head up, a brow raised. "What the heck just happened?"  
"I really don't know," Germany sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys have any constructive response, post it in the comments. However, I won't fix my earlier chapters. Instead, I will keep it in mind when I write future chapters.  
> Also, if you guys have recommendations for the plot to this story, I will gladly work it into the current ideas I have for this story. (Post it in the comments, please! I'mm sorry-)  
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter,  
> -Soviet_uwu


	9. Manipulation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The German family is up to no good. Russia is dragged in, to Germany's dread. They run away back to the meadow that Germany found, and they get distracted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hnnng how is it like to collab with another author in a book  
> thE CURIOSITY  
> Also if any (historic) info in the book is wrong please correct me ediundsn  
> Okay proceed with the rest of the chapter please

The German Empire paced around his great nephew (and the long table that the family had all sat down in), a toothy grin on his face. However, Germany had to mash down a pain-laced flare of affection for his family member, affection that the monster didn't deserve. He knew that his great uncle was the reason why his father had been so terrible in the first place, at least according to his theories. That menacing smile was merely a facade, a carefully crafted illusion that easily hid away the horrific thoughts that piled up in his head.  
"So," he heard his father say. "I heard you've been close to Russia recently." The slinking figure of Third Reich unnerved the small country, trying to summon up any courage. The blood had stopped coming from his injuries, though gauze covered some of his head. His officer hat casted a scary shadow over his eyes, causing him to shrink back.  
"Vater," Germany spoke briefly in his own language, before quickly stuttering. "I-I mean, father." He clasped his hands together, trying his best to stamp down on his own self-pity, while avoiding laying on his anxiety too thickly. Though his heart was threatening to burst out of his chest (though sadly not out of his almost overwhelming love for tiny Poland), he didn't want his father to savor the pained fear that came from his own son. Breathing out after what seemed like hours, days, even years, he mumbled, "I have been closer to Russia, like you've wanted me to. I've noticed his relation with America."  
A hum came from the malicious country. Third Reich tapped a finger on the table, a thoughtful expression now on his face. Despite this seemingly innocent moment, Germany had Reichtangle and Second Reich in his view. Though the former had been a bit kinder than all of his family members, he hadn't stopped his brother, Second Reich, from torturing Poland in horrible ways. Helpless sorrow and rage bubbled deep within the youngest member of the household.  
Finally, Third Reich said something. "I don't care who that weakling Russia is in love with," he rumbled. "His father already whined to me about it." He stood up from his chair (making Germany realize just how tall his father was, even if there was a few countries taller than him), slamming his hands down on the table and leaning in close to Germany dramatically . "Now that you're so close to this communist," he whispered quietly. "Do your father a favor. Convince him to break up with America. Make him fall in love with you."  
A look of horror flashed over Germany's face, but not just because of the disturbing request. He saw movement behind his father, and he knew full well who it was. The devoted people who was deeply intertwined with whatever missions Third Reich had, and therefore with his family. He had no reason to call them friend.  
"Father," he choked out. "I'm already in love with someone." He refused to say Poland's name- unfortunately, he had an idea of what his family had done to his lover, and didn't want to endanger him anymore.  
"Poland. Always that weak country, he constantly clutters your head, my son." Third Reich frowned, sitting back down. He let lut a loud sigh. "Can't you think straight, Germany?"  
Before he was about to snap back that he couldn't think straight because he was gay, he realized that a comment resembling America could easily get Germany in trouble. Trying to form a sentence properly, he blurted, "I see where you went wrong, father. You've never experienced love, empathy, or whatever they call it." (Sorry I keep adding parentheses, out of story right quick, but pLEASE if you got the reference to a Countryballs comic I very terribly/vaguely referenced, assuming you have an Archive of Our Own account I stg I'll gift you a short story of your choice without any payment or something without hesitation I'm not even joking I love that comic too much help okay now you can continue reading sorry)  
Germany could hear the entire room go silent. As he glanced around the room, he saw his great uncle and his grandfather frowning, his father forcing himself to not snap and throttle his own son right then and there, and the shuffling of whoever was behind Third Reich getting closer. As he braced himself to get tackled to the ground, to get dragged away like a ragdoll and be starved in a secret room in their house, he heard Third Reich suddenly chuckle.  
"Well, my beloved Germany," he sighed. "You have successfully figured it out. Yes, I've never felt love nor empathy." A sudden, maniacal grin stretched across his face, though he knew the same meaning behind that gesture of false kindness. "I believe your friend has known that."  
As the people behind Third Reich stepped out of the shadows, along with Germany realizing just how dimly lit the room was, he saw a country being limply dragged, though with great effort. As they basically threw the country from the ground, he was suddenly hit with the strong scent of alcohol.  
"Russia!" He shrieked, falling to his knees as he tried to shake his friend awake. Cuts and bruises marked his face and neck, and parts of his blue and white striped shirt were ripped, revealing more lacerations. Then, to top it all off, Germany had the sudden, unnerving thought that the wounds didn't stop after the people reached his clothing. "Russia," he whimpered again, quieter, as he saw his friend's eyes flutter open.  
"Germany," he rasped back. "Tell your family to stop trying to beat up my father and I." He mumbled what was likely a curse word in Russian, before attempting to get back to his feet by himself.  
While the smaller country tried to keep Russia from stressing out his weak and injured body, he took the time to rescan the room, and all he saw was heavy disappointment for his compassion, and mild interest in Russia's shape.  
"You're already in love with Poland, huh?" Reichtangle teased, his beady eyes now closed while he likely imagined life when he still was in love. "Such a shame. That country's dating a cheater, and so is America."  
Germany clenched his fists, though he kept his anger controlled enough that he didn't punch his grandfather in the throat, or at least somewhere that could make even a strong country like Reichtangle feel horrible. While he tried to support Russia by slinging his arm over his own shoulders, he tried to hide his true, and rather depressing emotions. Before he started hanging out his Poland, before he realized his true feelings for the tiny country he was dating at the moment, he used to have a fleeting crush over Russia. He always found the tall man kind and protective, even if he seemed to drown his emotions in the vodka he had grown addicted to. He was pretty handsome, too, according to younger Germany's standards at the time. He shuddered heavily, repressing the crushing sadness he felt when he learnt that Russia recently started a relationship with America, along with the hours he spent, trying to work with as much things as possible, trying to exhaust himself with a task that could get him to stop thinking of what made him so melancholic in the first place. However, those sad days were over when he fell in love with Poland.  
They eventually stumbled away from the house, the sound of hyena-like laughter from the family now an incoherent buzz, like mosquitoes.  
"Russia. I'm sorry for what my family had done to you. They were always a... Handful," Germany eventually mumbled as they made their way across a familiar area. As the taller country jerked away, objecting that this was not in the direction of his mansion or anywhere else that a friend lived at, Germany merely sighed, "Wait. I found a place. It's a secret, though, so don't frolic off and invite anyone and/or everyone."  
As Russia squinted suspiciously in response, Germany guided him towards the beautiful meadow that he had seen a few days ago. Suddenly, the taller country seemed mesmerized by the beauty around him. "...Wow."  
"I know," Germany chuckled, sitting down near a partially shaded spot. Russia immediately plucked flowers, weaving them together into a flower crown that hadn't been as neat as Poland's, but better than Germany's sad attempt. The taller country automatically plopped it on Germany's head. "Wait, I can figure this out," he muttered, suddenly lost in thought. "Is it.... Something the USSR taught you?"  
Russia sucked in air through his teeth, as if to gesture that that was the wrong answer. The injured country replied, "Sister Ukraine taught all Slavs. Now, Slavics weave together great flower crowns."  
Germany mentally face-palmed.  
He had just forgotten that Poland was indeed Slavic, which explained his flower crown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You probably could tell that I don't include any other language in this book but English. I've been thinking of putting very simple phrases in other languages into my chapters. I can't really speak anything but English, so I use Google Translate (and therefore isn't very accurate). I'll put a chart on the end notes of any words in another language (along with the language it is in) and the English translation. If this is too much of a hassle for you to scroll down to the end notes everytime you see a foreign word, tell me!  
> Also I kinda hint of RusGer but not really because GerPol ftw  
> And those injuries will impact  
> \-----  
> Vater (German) = Father  
> -Soviet_uwu


	10. Joy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> America helps Russia clean his injuries from Third Reich. They have a brief talk on... Things. Then, Ukraine happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should Ukraine x Canada be a ship in here  
> I might put it on hold since it gets confusing with Russia x America  
> i c a n e x p l a i n

America pulled out his medical stuff, humming quietly as he looked at Russia. The tall country didn't suffer much physically, though likely more emotionally. Shallow cuts and bruises marked his body, though some cuts were deep. "I'm sorry, Russia," America breathed, suddenly snapping out of his daydreams as he began to gently clean the wounds. He heard a pained hiss come from Russia, though he quickly recovered.  
"I-It's fine," he stammered, reaching up with his open arm to put back on his ushanka. He seemed to not have much injuries on his head, he was told. Everything ached, though.  
Silence passed, followed by more sharp gasps everytime America moved on to cleaning another cut. Russia took this time to think to himself, just like America.  
 _What is happening?_ Russia questioned to himself. _I thought Third Reich would be a better person. I thought.... Once my father's bullet entered his head, he would be reborn a new man. Someone who didn't have such an overwhelming amount of loathing for the world._ He strained to listen to the song that America was humming, soon giving himself a mental facepalm when he realized that he was humming his own national anthem.  
"Okay," America said slowly, letting go of Russia's arms. "I think that's it for those." He briefly looked at his hands, frowning at them, before putting them down. "Anywhere else I need to know?"  
Russia, in reply, nodded. "I think I'm good," he sighed. He shifted his position so that he was closer to America, embracing the small country in a tight hug. "Thank you."  
America's face lit up in a happy grin, returning the affection by hugging back and giving Russia a peck on the cheek. "You're such a tough person," he snorted. As if he was talking to a different person, he chirruped, "My tough person. So hands off." He started giggling, and Russia joined in with the laughter.  
They heard a crashing noise, and when they looked up, they saw Ukraine grinning. "Guess what?" The lady shrieked, causing the couple to wince. "Canada just HUGGED ME!"  
America shook his head with a slow chuckle. "Canada hugs everyone," he informed. "Even if he hates them. I don't know who he hates, actually.." His face took on a strange expression.  
"Not like that," she chirruped quickly. "He told me that he LIKED me!" She ran over to Russia, giving his sibling an almost strangling hug. "I'm so excited!"  
Russia blinked slowly, as if he was just registering what was happening. "Sister," he laughed. "That's such good news! I can't tell which 'like' he is referring to, but I believe he's a good person to be friends with!"  
Ukraine bolted out of the room as quickly as she came in, leaving just Russia and America in there. Russia looked to his companion, sighing, "Now, where were we?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> frowny face this chapter is smol am apologies


	11. Wind-Blown Flags

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Third Reich is being cruel to Germany. Reichtangle disapproves of his son, but doesn't seem to be completely there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not portraying Third Reich as a good person. Hence this freaking book haha

Germany bolted back to his house, the world around him blurring into shades of green and blue from the grass and the sky. He wished that he could explain to his family that Poland and him were together, but knew it would only make Poland's life more difficult. For now, the meadow was the only place where he could truly be himself.  
He just couldn't handle leaving his family, knowing that they would be even more of a threat to everyone if he lost their trust. He had to slowly agree with their plans...  
"Germany!" A loud voice barked. He skidded to a stop, turning his body completely around. His father, Third Reich, was standing at the front of their house, his teeth bared to reveal jagged teeth that could easily puncture someone's skin. Germany felt his body tense up, and had to force himself to greet his father formally.  
With confident strides, the Nazi had easily walked over to his son, that unfriendly grin not fading one bit. When he spoke, his voice was ragged and husky. "Where have you been, my son?" He leaned forward, casting a shadow that made Germany want to slap him across the face and run and never look back. The workaholic took note of his outfit- he seemed to be dressed for battle, with that black uniform pressed tightly against his clothing. However, the buttons were partially undone, revealing a white shirt that had been partially stained pink with the grim reminder of blood.  
"Visiting Russia, father," Germany stammered. He felt two of Third Reich's fingers briefly teaching forward and grabbing something from around his neck, before quickly pulling away with a look of disgust.  
"Poland's feathers," he growled. The white and clean feather from Poland's wings were soon on the ground, smothered by one of Third Reich's heavy boots. "He was always so quiet. Never gave me the reaction I wanted from him. I always wanted to hear him beg for mercy, to see that dead look in his eyes when he was ready for God to snatch him from this Earth."  
Germany wanted to reach forward, to seize his father by his clothing's collar, to snarl into his face that Poland is stronger now than before, but he knew that it could easily get him hurt, and that Third Reich would take his time with hurting him. With another shuddering breath, the man hissed, "I don't know how they got there, sir. It could be from Russia."  
"Could be," Third Reich taunted. He seized his son by the wrist, gripping it painfully and partially digging in blunt nails into his skin. Ooh, that would leave a mark. Germany let out a strangled yelp as he was forcefully dragged, back into the house. The cool air hit his skin immediately, and he immediately shuddered. Doors slammed behind him as he was thrown to the ground of the living room— was it just him, or did everything loom around him? Grand statues of his family and their allies were scattered around their house, from the Japanese Empire to Austria-Hungary. However, these hulking blocks of stone seemed to have their eyes on Germany, and he shivered once more.  
"They've corrupted you," Third Reich spat. His voice was intimidatingly low, and he started pacing around Germany. The country had trouble getting up from the sheer force that he was thrown down, and it didn't help that the fear that his father gave him chilled all the way into his bones. With great effort, he was now standing, though he needed to rest for likely an hour before he could have the courage to walk anywhere.  
With as much irritation as he could muster, Germany choked out, "Russia, America, and Poland haven't corrupted me. They've been my loyal friends, and wouldn't stab me in the back— I can't say the same for you."  
Suddenly, the threat seemed much more apparent. Third Reich stalked forward, his usually blank eyes now burning with rage to hurt his only child—  
And was interrupted. A loud cough snapped Third Reich out of his daze, and he looked up to see his own father, Germany's grandfather, Reichtangle. The cape that blanketed the shoulders and back of the man didn't hide the scarred body that was the veteran of World War 1. Awe, fear, and relief crashed over Germany so badly that he nearly fell to his knees. Third Reich straightened his back, his eyes narrowed. "F-father..." He whispered quietly, as if he was completely unknowing of his plan to hurt Germany.  
Reichtangle blinked those beady eyes, before barking out a rasping laugh. Germany winced, not enjoying a single second of the taunting noise. "Did you really THINK you could get away with hurting the successor of the family?" He gestured with a sweep of his arm to the pitiful man, and Germany grew hot with embarrassment.  
Third Reich bent his head down, his eyes closed as he grumbled, "For a second, yes, Father." His body was rigid with controlled rage, and Germany had to think about how slim of a chance he had of surviving whatever horrifying thing his own dad had in mind at that moment.  
Shaking his rectangular head, Reichtangle looked at Germany. "Stand up, grandson," he announced, extending a hand. Germany reached forward, being supported until he could stand on both of his feet and not immediately fall over. He could feel Third Reich's burning gaze on him, but decided to ignore it. However, it didn't stop there; Reichtangle bent forward, whispering in Germany's (nonexistent) ear, "Be wary, Successor. Your father is dangerous— I won't be surprised if you want to leave. I've already lived out my days when I was still young, and I did bad things. Don't be like my father and I, and be wary for anything this corrupted family may pull on you."  
When Reichtangle pulled away to scold Third Reich, Germany took a step back to the entrance of the mansion. This wasn't like his grandfather- or, the cold and distant figure he used to know. What happened behind the doors while he was gone?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> W o w I just realized this book jumps all over the place sorry
> 
> -Soviet_uwu


	12. Moon-lit Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Germany sneaks out of his house, and overhears something. When he does sneak out, he runs into Russia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't ship RusGer :')
> 
> Also I'm not writing in German I'm sorry but I don't want to Google Translate and Duolingo is hunting down for me  
> Just pretend that the long conversation that happens in the chapter is in German I'm sorry

Germany sat up quickly, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He glanced around, his entire body ready to fight off an intruder. The nightmare was so... Real. He thought that had he stayed asleep for a bit longer, the Third Reich he dreamed of could've throttled him. He glanced around, though he lingered on a pile of something in the corner of his room.  
His heart thumped loudly inside of his chest, but slowly he convinced himself that it was not his grand-uncle's infamous helmet. Slowly, Germany relaxed his tensed up body, and was tempted to lay his head back down on his pillow and go to sleep once more. He leaned back, finally hitting the pillow, and felt his eyes drift partially closed.  
Then, he jolted up, managing to suppress a startled shriek. This was the third time he had been forced awake by nightmares! His suspicious eyes quickly locked on to the time on his clock.  
3:29 A.M. He shuddered at how early he had woken up. He sat in his bed, a messy pile of blankets wrapped together as he debated what he should do. Slowly, he was convincing himself to try and sleep one more time.  
"No!" He hissed to himself, his heart skipping a beat when he tried to figure out how loud he spoke. Germany scrabbled out of his bed, trying his best to not cause a ruckus. Third Reich put him on the top floors, which was unfortunate for anyone below him.  
Slowly, the country tried to recover his normal mindset while he tried to put on casual clothes. His body, however, decided that he should retain this sluggish and placid mindset. While trying to sort out his brain, Germany had selected a baggy, short-sleeved shirt and long pants with pockets— both of which were black, which sort of helped with what Germany was planning to do. Satisfied with what he was wearing, he put on socks and wore his glasses, holding his shoes in one hand to wear once he got outside.  
He carefully opened his door, frowning when he heard something occuring downstairs. Germany tried to listen closer, but he couldn't distinguish any words he understood.  
As he slipped down the stairs, however, mostly hidden by the shadows, he started hearing words from both his grandfather and his father (and was confused why so early in the morning).  
"Third Reich, I don't understand why you want Germany to be with Russia. It's obvious they don't like each other that way," Germany heard Reichtangle grumble.  
Silence. "We're far too deep in this. Germany'll suspect that we're trying to manipulate him."  
Reichtangle snorted at the reply, earning a low growl from his son. "We've been a little obvious, don't you realize that? For most of his life, Second and I have been staying out of Germany's business. Third Reich, you're the one who's constantly terrifying him."  
During one of Third Reich's unnerving pauses, Germany tried to figure out who Second was. Briefly, he stopped trying to analyze what Reichtangle and Third Reich's conversation meant so far. Soon, he realized what his grandfather meant— he was talking about Germany's great uncle, Second Reich.  
The one that he wanted to avoid.  
"I terrify him because he's too soft. The two before him, West was EXACTLY like current Germany. I wish some of East's annoyingly bold and tough personality rubbed onto him," Third Reich admitted, his tone sounding like he'd rather die than confess what he just said.  
Reichtangle seemed to shuffle as if he secretly wanted to get the talk over with. "West and East Germany are technically not dead, Third Reich. Don't say 'the two before him', because they combined to form the Germany we know today." A quiet sigh. "We have to make do with your son, Third. It's not like we can rip him in half and pry out West and East Germany from his remains." Reichtangle laughed, as if he found the joke amusing. "Get it? If you seriously want to tear him in half, I'm chaining you up and telling Poland to beat you up."  
Germany's heart threatened to burst out his chest, and his lungs refused to let him breathe. Looking down at his hands, he tried to figure out what his grandfather meant. There were two Germanies before him? And they combined to form him!? His grasp on his confusing life suddenly seemed to vanish, with more questions opening up before him.  
"I want him to be with Russia because I want him to keep an eye on USSR!" Third Reich suddenly exploded, slamming a hand down on a table. The man was seized with surprise and fear, shuddering violently. With a silent gasp, he tried to retreat even further into the shadows. Germany saw his father stare in his direction suspiciously, and he shrank back even further. Halfway down the stair may have been too far. His eyes still locked on to where Germany was, Third Reich hissed, "He might as well be something other than a disappointment. His relationship with Poland means nothing to me— Commonwealth is already dealt with. If Germany were with Russia, however, it would be perfect for this family; he could be our little spy, reporting back to us with information. We could finally hurt USSR as badly as he hurt me! Father, we could rain revenge down on Russia's pathetic family."  
Another name that Germany didn't even know of. He placed a hand on his chest, trying to see how fast his heart was beating; to him, it felt like it was seconds away from giving out on him.  
His grandfather sighed loudly, reaching forward. Germany saw him gently place his hand on Third Reich's cheek, before rather roughly forcing the man to face him. An enraged yell escaped Third Reich, and two scarred hands reached up to claw at Reichtangle's arm.  
However, nothing happened. Reichtangle spat, "I will not let you do this any longer. Stop forcing your child do to what you want— trust me, I've been around other people long enough to know their limits. If Germany is like..." The man cut off, briefly rethinking his choice of words. "If Germany ends up like one of us, I don't care if you're my son or not. Third Reich, I will throttle you and leave you at USSR's doorsteps and see how he reacts to his unconscious enemy. You hear me?"  
Germany found the threat rather strange, but he could feel any questions he wanted to ask dry up in his mouth. Obviously, Third Reich seemed to feel the same. He nodded once, lurching back when Reichtangle let go of him. After what seemed like an eternity of the both of them glaring at each other, they split ways into their own rooms.  
\-----  
Germany stalked his way out of the house, carefully closing the door and letting out a loud sigh. Usually, Third Reich tried to distant himself from Reichtangle. However, he hadn't seen anything that bad happen between them.  
As he started a nervous walk away from the house, he let himself calm down. Moonlight bathed everything within its reach, and anything that didn't glisten was pale in color. Nearby buildings didn't radiate cold, unnatural light. Barely anybody was around, and the country felt like he was free to do whatever he wanted as long as he wasn't spotted.  
Germany observed the area around him, feeling a brief moment of serenity that he didn't mind experiencing. Maybe he should go to the meadow; it wasn't too far of a walk, and he could lie there in peace. That is, until the recent memories of the conversation assaulted his brain again.  
"Hey."  
The sudden word forced Germany out of his thoughts, and out of surprise he stumbled back a good distance. As he looked up to find the source of the voice, however, he saw Russia standing idly in front of him.  
Germany pointed at Russia shakily, his (nonexistent) eyebrows furrowed. "Wait. I didn't see you there, Russia."  
The tall country took off his jacket, revealing his common blue and white shirt. Tying it around his waist, he inquired, "Why are YOU out in the middle of the night? You shouldn't be out."  
"Neither should you," Germany blurted. He ran a mental finger over what he could say. Should he mention Third Reich and Reichtangle's conversation? Should he explain his nightmares? Could he even start a talk between them by mentioning on how he could secretly be a combination of two people? Should he just lie? He tried to think of what was easy to explain and get away with. "I'm not tired enough to fall back asleep again."  
Germany was relieved when Russia decided not to ask why he couldn't go back to sleep. The male looked into the sky, his usual half-open eyes now replaced with an interested gleam. "The sky is pretty tonight." He waved his hand towards dimly lit lampposts, which were spaced out relatively far apart. "At least those things aren't bright. I'd rather walk around aimlessly than have my eyeballs scorched."  
Clamping a hand over his mouth, Germany attempted to smother a giggle, earning a pleased smile from Russia in the process. "I agree," Germany chuckled. "I like it when it's night out. I prefer seeing natural light and the stars over lights in a house or..." He gestured to the lampposts that Russia already refereed to.  
"Hey, want to walk with me? I can't really sleep either, and it'd be nice to have a conversation for once," Russia offered out of the blue, briefly stretching as he waited patiently for a response. Basically, he acted as if it was normal for him to invite people other than America on walks.  
Germany paused for a bit, trying to think of an answer that wouldn't piss off Poland. He knew what the angel went through— if he was going to be Poland's boyfriend, he had to be loyal.  
"Alright," he murmured. "We could go for a walk, but that's it. I'll have to go home before the sun rises."


	13. Author's Note

Hey,,, there's something I've wanted to say.  
I'm rewriting Flower Crowns. While I love how the plot is so far, I'm not satisfied at how undeveloped it is. It jumps from left to right, especially from Russia's POV to Germany's POV.  
I can do better than that for you guys. You deserve better.  
This time, I'll add more obstacles to the storyline to make things more interesting, such as:  
-Denial of romantic feelings/someone's already in a relationship  
-Some countries get set up for crimes not done to them  
-Huge argument

I'll try to involve some words in different languages! I kind of know German and Russian, and can use small scraps of words in everyone's speech to show they're not exactly the same and have their own languages.  
I will keep up this version of Flower Crowns, but won't update it any longer.  
If this is an inconvenience, I'm sorry.  
-Soviet_uwu

**Author's Note:**

> Yo I'm really tired all of the time so I'm sorry if the quality isn't good--  
> -Soviet_uwu


End file.
